


The Sand we Share

by lemon lin (Citrusgrape)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid, Disney AU, Gen, M/M, The Little Mermaid AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citrusgrape/pseuds/lemon%20lin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wishes dearly to join Dean and Sam as humans. Gabriel just might be able to grant that wish... but for a price. (The Little Mermaid AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sand we Share

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scher/gifts).



The ship creaked and swayed along the smooth waters of the Atlantic, sea spray misting along the bow. Water sparkled like diamonds against the reflection of the noonday sun and seagulls elegantly weaved amongst the puffed up cotton candy clouds. A mermaid made of wood, now tarnished and scratched with age and wear of use, proudly embellished the front of the ship. Her arms were spread in such a way that it almost seemed she was embracing the sea, the entirety of it wrapped in her motherly arms.  
  
Dean sucked in the scent of the summer sea as he weaved amongst the bustle on the deck. Seamen of all shapes and sizes worked incessantly to keep the ship sailing smoothly as well as catch as much fish as they could carry. The iconic pinks of salmon filled the nets to the brim, their scales glinting eye-capturing silvers. Even more sailors were climbing along the tops of billowing sails, tightening ropes and making the ship as steady as possible. All together they sang a song unfamiliar to Dean but cheerful nonetheless. The prince only contributed whenever they all bellowed “YO HO” (which had an extremely derogatory connotation in his mind that would be completely unrealistic for his pure and Disney-esque settings, so he instead ignored it). The music continued as he helped a portly older man tug on a taut length of rope.  
  
“Look out, Lad a mermaid be waiting for you in mysterious fathoms beloooow,” they sang in their booming voices, fighting to be heard over the churning water beneath them.  
  
Impala barked and scuttled over to where Dean was leaning against the bow, waggling his scruffy tail feverishly. “Isn’t this great!? The salty sea air; the wind blowing your face?” Dean asked Impala enthusiastically, his grin widening at the dog’s long hair flowing comically in the gust of wind that buffeted them. A whimsical, far-away look crossed Dean’s face. “A perfect day to be at sea.”  
  
“Oh, yes, delightful,” came a sarcastic reply, the words dripping with distaste. Dean swiveled to get an eyeful of his brother, Sam; shaded a sickly green that could definitely not be healthy. Sam bent over the bow and… Well, that’s how Dean found out what Sam had for dinner last night.  
  
“A fine, strong wind and a flowing sea,” the portly man from earlier chimed in, tying a complicated knot to some stray lines of rope. “King Chuck must be in a friendly type mood.” Dean rushed over to the man’s aid once more, holding the line taut as the sailor’s still nimble fingers quickly tightened the loops of the knot. The rope was coarse and bit harshly into his skin, yet Dean paid no attention to the minor discomfort. He was more interested in what the sailor had to say.  
  
“King Chuck?” Dean prompted, slowly releasing the rope.  
  
“Why, ruler of the merpeople, lad,” a huskier voice interjected. The man who spoke happened to be manhandling a particularly fierce salmon into its barrel, his thick ginger beard blowing the same angle as the sails. “His name is Chuck Shurley, to be exact, and I thought _every ___good sailor knew about _him ___.” The sailor pointed one stubby, fish-clad hand at Dean, his grin showing missing teeth.  
  
“Merpeople,” Sam said incredulously, disbelief filling his voice. “Dean, that’s ridiculous. Don’t tell me you _believe ___them.” He stressed his words with skepticism, as if wondering how a grown adult could believe in Santa Claus.  
  
“Of course he would believe us, it’s the truth!” the sailors yelled, one of them going as far as to shove a salmon in Sam’s face. Letting out a small yelp of surprise, Sam pressed himself against the railing along the edge of the ship so as to distance himself from the limp body of the fish.  
  
“Gross,” he muttered, nose crumpled.  
  
The sailor remained unfazed, continuing on with his rant. “Admittedly, Chuck isn’t the most awe inspirin’ name but I’m tellin’ ya, down in the depths of the ocean they liv- OH,” he shouted as the fish in his hand struggled to get free. With a flick of its tail it had successfully dove over the edge, once more returning to the sea. Not, of course, before slapping Sam in the face with its fin.  
  
The singing returned from its intermission and Dean laughed openly at Sam’s befuddled and shell shocked expression. “Bet you the mysterious, all-powerful Chuck sent that fish,” Dean joked, slapping Sam on the back.  
  
Cracking a small smile, Sam wiped grimy sea water from his face. “Well, he’s sure got a sick sense of humor.”


End file.
